


Masked

by catmiint



Category: Pretend Wizards D&D Campaign
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-02
Updated: 2017-07-02
Packaged: 2018-11-22 14:38:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,400
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11382249
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/catmiint/pseuds/catmiint
Summary: The Tom Tit Tot rush to clean up the evidence in the newly abandoned Happy Sunshine Orphanage, leaving Moira and Nundenday in a predicament.





	Masked

 

 

* * *

 

 

Moira peeked out from behind the curtains of the hovel they were staying at, watching the busy streets of the Lower Bailey. Each passerby went through their day ignorant of the aftermath of a war that was ripping apart Atla from within, as the unchecked power of the Tom Tit Tot threatened to swallow them all. The curtains were moth eaten and heavily stained but still thick enough to prevent anyone from getting a good look at the inside. Despite the dilapidated state of the building, Nundenday had it laced with magical traps and archaic protection spells—some of which created out of the ordinary visual effects. They could bypass notice more easily in the Lower Bailey, but there was a line of weird that couldn't be crossed even here.  
  
A gentle hand on her shoulder jerked her out of her sulking before a voice leaked into the edges of her mind. The feeling of Nundenday linking minds with her never got easier to bear, so she was grateful for a physical warning beforehand.  
  
_Be careful not to be seen looking out_ , came a cool voice running through her head like water. Slick and illusive, Moira couldn't pin down exactly how her strange protector sounded. Neither masculine nor feminine nor exactly androgynous. There were no inflections like the whispering rasp of Shira or musical lilt of her mother.  
  
Grief seized her briefly and suddenly, making it difficult not to respond verbally. _I know. I'm more observant than they are._  
  
She turned away from the curtained window and looked up at the slim figure of Nundenday. They were much taller than both her mother and Shira—Moira had inherited her father's shorter stature—so she didn't even come up to the swell of their chest whereas she was up to Shira's shoulders. At a first glance, they appeared to be dressed in monotone unlike the Weekdays she had observed from a distance, but her perception changed as she was exposed more and more to fairy magic. Now, if she squinted and concentrated hard, she could see a sheen of vibrant cover. Rainbows on a spectrum she couldn't comprehend coloring in the busy pattern of their masking clothing.  
  
Nundenday's headscarf had dropped a bit out of place to cover one eye of their mask. They seemed to not notice.  
  
_Still, they began, we must be cautious. Our enemies may believe they are the victors, but they remain ready to quash any remnants of the Unseelie and their allies._  
  
Moira tried not to think of Shira, a burning beacon of a target for the Tom Tit Tot. It was enough to be their parents' daughter, but she had caused the towering monolith quite a bit of trouble recently. She had done well lying low for a time after she tried to smuggle Moira out of Atla, but recently threw herself head first into harm's way.  
  
Nundenday must have sensed her unease. _Your sister has proven herself quite the noble heart despite what many might think. To return home beaten and bloody just to help two dozen cast off orphans is an extraordinary feat. It's a shame she was not with her companions when they entered my domain briefly through the Sielle estate._  
  
The reminder of how close to death Shira had been, and the direct slap to the face she issued to the Tom Tit Tot filled Moira with anxiety.  
  
_It seems that was the wrong thing to say. My apologies, mortal children are not my expertise._ Nundenday's tone was flat, but Moira somehow was impressed onto with the sensation of sincere apology.  
  
This mind link thing was weird.  
  
Moira chewed her lip in thought as she responded, _You meant well—I just worry about her._  
  
_Regardless, recent events make the Lower Bailey unsafe for you. Yet I cannot take you through the folds between realms, as the Tom Tit Tot must be on their way to destroy evidence of their operations in the Happy Sunshine Orphanage._    
  
Moira leaned forward and pressed her head against the firm chest of Nundenday, breathing in deeply the comforting smell of rowan wood and crisp spring water. The weight of their words dawned on her and she squeezed her eyes shut tightly. There was no way they would go unnoticed if they moved through the odd pocket realms that scattered Atla, as the members of the Tom Tit Tot would be tying up the lose ends they left in the orphanage and space in between realms there. To say she was scared would be an understatement.

  
_Hiding things from you no longer protects you from their influence, so it is pertinent that you know Benny is at large and searching for evidence of the children._  
  
A shiver ran down her spine—she’d heard stories about that man.  
  


Nundenday continued, _I have a plan, my child. I have crafted you vestments similar to those of mine and my brethren's. Your mortal nature makes this disguise fallible, however, so you must listen to my instructions carefully._  
  
Moira let her shaking body be guided towards the door of their hide out, taking the offered cloak and mask. Her hands trembled as she secured the cloak with a smooth pearl brooch. Feeling it drape over her shoulders left her with a sensation similar to passing into the weird fairy spaces. She had to mentally steel herself as the tingle spread across her body and threatened to throw her out of reality.  
  
It passed and she turned her focus to the mask. Mouse like yet not distinct, similar to the canine nature of Nundenday's mask. Perhaps they represented animals of the fey, Moira mused as she ran a hand across the surface. It was smooth and black as pitch, marred only by white marks where her eyes would be and a stripe across the forehead—much less extravagant than the designs of her protector's mask, but she wasn't jealous.  
  
Okay, maybe a little jealous.  
  
A quick reassuring nod from Nundenday encouraged her shaking hands to press the mask to her face.  
  
She could feel the fairy magic flood into her body, threatening to take over and destroy any semblance of independent thought. It was infinitely more intense than the sensation associated with stepping between the material plane and the feywild, and she gasped for breath.  
  
_Don't fight it. The command was clipped and firm yet caring. The intensity of the magic may feel dangerous, but it is only your body reaction to the laws of a land you do not belong to. Your mortal body will acclimate the best it can._  
  
There was a pause and a sensation of laughter floated through her, light and like the tinkling of bells. _If it makes you feel better, I nearly vomited the first time one of your mortal mages cast what they call Barkskin on me during a fight with the Tom Tit Tot. This is a road that occurs in two directions, as is stated in the Atlan cant._  
  
Moira's nose crinkled in amusement at Nundenday's attempt to restate a popular saying. It took a moment, but she realized their stilted speech relaxed her enough to let the magic imbued in the mask take hold. She hadn't even noticed when she stopped struggling against it. Although she could certainly feel a strand of hair stuck in her mouth. Masks weren't the most comfortable things.  
  
Nundenday opened the door and led her out by the shoulders.  
  
Their voice was clearer in her mind than ever before; the colors in their clothing becoming more and more apparent. As she breathed in she smelled iron and spring herbs and felt the fairy magic of the mask heighten her senses. Occasionally she caught sight of a creature, strange and unusual, stalking through heavy foilage in her peripheral vision.  
  
It was an amazing feeling, as if she was walking in the two worlds at the same time.  
  
_The mask and cloak will help you escape notice, but our enemies are keen and have eyes everywhere. We will remain separated to help their eyes pass over us, so you may not see me. Heed my advice:_  
  
_If they talk, don't listen._  
  
If they stare, don't speak.  
  
If they ask, don't answer.  
  
And if they push you, scream. I'll be there. I promise  
  
For the first time since her parents were murdered, Moira walked the streets of Atla without fear.


End file.
